Bruised and Broken
by Elfpen
Summary: Even after returning safely home, Will struggles to recover from his experiences in Skandia, and Halt doesn't know what to do. Some things take time, and some illnesses affect more than flesh and blood. The question is, can Will overcome them?
1. Not Quite the Same

**Title: Bruised and Broken**

**Author: Elfpen**

**Summary: Will is home. After a year in captivity in the frozen north, he's finally back in Araluen, and Halt is starting to relax now that his apprentice is by his side once more. But did Will ever really recover from his experiences in Skandia? Some things take time, and some illnesses affect more than flesh and blood. The question is, can Will overcome them?**

A/N: I've actually been meaning to write something like this for quite some time, but am just now getting around to it. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Halt discreetly wiped away the last of his tears and took a deep breath. It was good to be home. Sure, he'd been on far-fetched ventures to every corner of the world before, but never had he risked so much as he had when he'd set off to find Will. His country, his King, his commandant, his friends, his oakleaf - He'd left them all to rescue that one boy who'd changed his life so profoundly. And now, standing back on the shores of his homeland with the smiling, forgiving faces of his friends and colleagues in front of him and the comforting presence of his newly-recovered apprentice beside him, it was all too overwhelming to _not _have an emotional reaction.

As he recomposed himself, Crowley came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, when I had to take your oakleaf from you, I had half a mind to strangle you with it." The Commandant told him meaningfully.

"It wouldn't have stopped me." Halt replied. Crowley smiled at him.

"I know. But it might have let you know what kind of hell you were putting me through, having to banish you from the Corps. and all that. It was downright agonizing."

Halt seemed unaffected by Crowley's attempt at a guilt-trip. "It had to be done." He said plainly.

Crowley gave a half nod. "That may be so, but at the time I didn't really care. Now, however," Crowley's tone changed as he looked over to where Will stood, smiling at the many people who were welcoming him home, "I'm glad you did it." He paused to smile at the apprentice, but then frowned in disapproval as a thought struck him. "Not to say that it wasn't one of the stupidest, hare-brained, inconsiderate undertakings that I've ever borne witness to," He glared over at Halt. "Speaking of which, next time you decide to commit high treason, tell me beforehand. At least then I could pretend that I wasn't quite as shocked as I was this time around."

"What, tell you so you could have stopped me?" Halt followed the comment with an incredulous scoff. "Give me some credit, Crowley."

The Commandant shifted and sighed uncomfortably. "Fine." He said at length. "I know why you did it… I just wish you'd asked me to come with you."

Halt looked at his long time friend, a bit softer than before. "Crowley, you know I couldn't have. If you weren't needed here, I'd have brought you along in a heartbeat. But you had other things to attend to."

"So did you." Crowley pointed out.

Halt sighed. "That may be, but Will was more important. Besides, I didn't think you'd appreciate my… methods." He was, of course, referring to his drunken slander of the King.

Crowley let out a bark of laughter. "Certainly not! After all, it's one thing when a rag-tag old vagabond like you loses his liquor," Crowley allowed, ignoring Halt's indignant expression at the word 'vagabond', "but me? The Corps. Commandant? One of the highest officers in the entire kingdom?" Crowley scoffed in a melodramatic way. "The scandal! Why, I'd never hear the end of it."

"What, and you think _I'll_ hear the end of it?" Halt asked.

Crowley smiled at him. "Well, probably not." He admitted. "But I'm not the one who has to put up with that, now am I?"

Halt rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should have stayed banished. It might have been nice, not having to listen to your yammering all the time." Of course, the whole statement was a lie. Sarcastic he might be, but Halt was inordinately glad to be back in the company of one of his oldest friends. Crowley, keen to Halt's sardonic and dry sense of communication, understood the man's underlying emotions.

"Well, now you'll never know. It's good to have you back, Halt." He gave his friend a solid pat on the shoulder and a strong smile before he wandered off to speak with King Duncan.

Halt took the moment to look back over at Will, who was speaking calmly with Gilan. The tall ranger was only just restraining himself from wrapping the boy in a bear hug, and he appeared to be nearly shaking with excitement and relief over the fact that Will was in fact safe in Araluen. Halt smiled at the sight. He knew Gilan had been tearing himself up over the capture of Will and Evanlyn ever since he rode back to camp that one night, and even more so when Halt wouldn't allow him to travel to Skandia in pursuit of the young apprentice. It was good to see him in high spirits once more.

"Halt!" A deep voiced called. The ranger turned to see Duncan beckoning him over with a friendly gesture, standing near to Crowley and Evanlyn. He nodded and walked over to the King, giving a kind nod of acknowledgement to Evanlyn – that is, Princess Cassandra – as well. The King thanked Halt several times for returning his daughter to him, and gave a personal apology about the whole banishment fiasco. Halt took all the thanks in stride, not saying much about it or the 'banishment fiasco' beyond a 'yes, your Majesty' here and there. Then, the King's face sobered somewhat, and he looked around a bit before he spoke again. Gilan caught his eye, and as the tall young man passed by, the King caught his arm.

"Gilan," He called. The young ranger seemed rather surprised at the King's summoning, but he remained composed.

"Sir?" He asked, a question in his eyes.

"I need to speak with Halt and Crowley privately for a few moments, but I fear that young Will might not make it that long." Duncan cast a meaningful glance at Will, who was stroking Tug's muzzle absently as he nodded off, oblivious to those around him. Gilan smiled at the boy, and then turned to his King.

"Of course, you Majesty. There should be room in the Ranger's Wing – I'll find him a place to rest."

Halt, having overheard the interchange, commented, "You can put him in my old room. Should be two beds in there, shouldn't there?"

Crowley nodded affirmation, and Gilan nodded as well. "Alright, I'll get him settled down. I'll see you all this evening." He nodded to his fellow rangers and bowed to his King, and then left to go pry a sleepy Will off of his beloved horse.

"Will?" He asked kindly, trying not to smile at Will's drowsy expression.

"Hmm?" The boy jerked awake at Gilan's voice and opened his eyes unnecessarily wide, as if to insist that he had most definitely _not _been asleep. Gilan's pitying smile grew a bit larger, and he gestured for the boy to follow him.

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Will inquired as he joined Gilan's side.

"To find you a place to lie down before you fall down." The tall ranger told him. "We can't very well have you collapsing out of exhaustion in front of your welcome-home party. A warm bath, a good meal, and a soft, fluffy pillow is what you need. Lord knows you've been through enough to deserve it." Gilan told him as they reached the steps of Castle Araluen.

"That does sound nice." Will murmured as he tried to keep his eyes open.

Soon, they were up in what Gilan referred to as the 'Ranger's Wing' of the Castle, and Will was shown into a reasonably sized suite of rooms that reminded him vaguely of Halt's cabin – but on a more luxurious scale. He looked around at the warmly lit furnishings and inviting living space. That carpet would feel like heaven on his feet, he thought.

"The bedrooms are just there," Gilan was saying, pointing to two doors on either side of a shallow corridor on one end of the suite. "The one on the left will be yours. The washroom is just through the door between them. Now," Gilan turned towards the boy. "Go get yourself in a nice warm bath and I'll find you some clothes, alright?"

Will nodded. "Alright. Is there a stove to heat water on?" He asked. Gilan shrugged.

"Well, yes, but there's really no need. The castle keeps warm water on tap."

Will's eyes grew wide. "On tap?" He said incredulously. "As in, ready to pump in at any time?"

Gilan smiled at the boy's awed expression. "Indeed. Come see," He said, showing Will in the washroom the two water pumps – one for regular water, the other for freshly warmed, steaming water. "There is a pair of large furnaces in the underground levels of the Castle that heat the water for most suites of the castle." He explained.

"That's bloody brilliant." Will commented, running his fingers through the warm water.

Gilan smiled again at him. "It is quite nice, isn't it? There are definite perks to staying at Castle Araluen. I wish Castle Meric were this nice. Now," Gilan scooted out of the washroom. "As I said, you get yourself washed off, and I'll go see if I can't find any clothes in your size. Be back soon."

"Alright," Will said as he left.

When Gilan returned, he tapped a light rhythm on the washroom door and set a stack of clean, dry clothes by the doorframe. "You're clothes are just outside the door, Will." He said, "And I've put more in your dresser. I've also got some dinner out here, if you'd like some." He said.

"Thanks, Gilan," Will's muffled voice carried through the door, "I'll be out in a minute."

Soon, Will was dressed in warm clothes, which he took great delight in rubbing all over his face. It'd been a long while since he'd felt or smelled clean linen and cotton, and he was enjoying the experience quite a bit. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he didn't seem to notice the slapdash state of his half-dry hair, nor the fact that he'd buttoned his shirt on crookedly. He went to sit across from Gilan at a small table where there sat a plate full of food, just waiting for him to eat it.

"Feel better?" Gilan asked. Will smiled.

"I can't tell you the last time I had a warm bath. It was wonderful." He said with a smile, and picked at the stew before him. "And I'm starving. This looks delicious."

Gilan laughed lightly at this, but he soon realized that what Will had said was more than a passing jest. He really _hadn't_ had a warm bath in a while. Gilan couldn't imagine Skandia having that many hot springs. His smile was gone as he reached for his spoon.

They made small talk as they ate, but because Will was so tired and most of the apologies and reliefs that Gilan had wanted to share had been spilled out hours earlier, the majority of their meal was eaten in silence. Soon, Will was nodding off again, and Gilan decided to put him out of his misery.

"Come on, sleepy head." He said, tapping an incoherent Will on the shoulder as he rose from the table. Gilan went into the bedroom with Will briefly to make sure that the bed had all its coverings and show the apprentice where the extra quilts were kept. As he was about to leave, he realized that Will was simply standing there, staring at the bed.

"Is something wrong, Will?" Gilan asked. Will blinked and looked up at him.

"Oh, no." He assured in a casual tone. "I was just trying to remember the last time I slept in a real bed."

Gilan smiled. "I'd bet Wolfships don't really have much in the way of bedding, hmm? Somewhere in Skandia then, I take it?" He asked as he shook out a blanket for Will's bed.

Will shook his head, squinting in thought. "No… Not Skandia. Definitely not Skandia." He pursed his lips. "I… I suppose the last time must have been… Well, the night before we left for Celtica. Back at Halt's cabin." Will said this with no drama or surprise, remembering it as a simple fact. However, Gilan couldn't help but to stare at the boy in shock. A whole year? A whole year without a bed to sleep on - Without blankets to sleep under? All in one of the coldest, most unforgiving landscapes known to man? Gilan felt a surge of pity for Will. He was about to console the boy, but Will had simply shrugged off the new revelation, clambered into bed, and buried himself beneath the covers. Soon, Gilan could hear his even breathing and knew that he must be falling asleep.

The Ranger's brow was still furrowed in concern and pity as he left the bedroom quietly, snuffing out a candle as he went. He still didn't know the extent of Will's ordeal in Skandia, he realized, but it was clear that the boy had been changed by it. Gilan still needed time to observe Will before he could draw any conclusions about what had happened, but as one who had gotten to know the boy well before he had been captured, Gilan was beginning to realize that something about Will was different. Something was wrong. He wasn't quite as expressive, and just a tad to slow in his responses. Perhaps, Gilan reasoned, this was the fatigue of a long, trying journey showing through. Perhaps. But something in Gilan's gut told him otherwise – told him that it was much more than exhaustion and weariness. It was something much deeper than that. The way Will had so relished in something as simple as a warm bath. The way he had stared at the soft pillows as though he hadn't seen one in years - it gave Gilan just a peek at the severity of Will's situation away in the frozen north.

As Gilan began cleaning up after their dinner, he noticed that Will's bowl of stew was still nearly full. The boy had barely eaten any of it. _But Will said that he was starving_, Gilan thought to himself. _Why on earth would he eat so little_? Washing out the dishes and setting them aside carefully, the worm of doubt worked itself deeper into Gilan's gut. As he prepared to leave the suite and return to his comrades, Gilan cast one last look over at Will's bedroom door, a cloud of worry haunting his eyes. After all that had happened, with the war, with Skandia, with the Princess, with everyone, with the kidnapping, the Skandian war, and the subsequent treaty, Gilan had somehow accepted the misconceived notion that he'd gotten the full picture of what had gone on in his absence. Now, however, he got the feeling that he knew nothing at all. And this ignorance left him with one immediate, nagging question:

What had happened to Will?

* * *

A/N: Well that was an incredibly boring first chapter. I apologize. It was boring and pointless, but I feel as though it should be in there for introductory purposes. Hopefully the second chapter will prove to be more interesting.

Read and Review, please!


	2. He Needs Help

A/N: Wow! I am shocked at all the feedback and positive reviews! You guys must all be as sick as I am, enjoying Will's angst and whatnot. What is it with us fanfiction types using Will as a punching bag? Oh well. Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

That evening, Gilan headed to Crowley's private quarters in search of Halt. He knocked on the doorframe and was let in soon afterwards. Crowley, Halt and King Duncan were seated in plush chairs around a low table, sipping at mugs of coffee. Since Crowley was a permanent resident of Castle Araluen, the castle quarters allotted to him were larger than the visiting suites that had been reserved for Halt and Gilan.

"Ah, Gilan, how's Will?" Duncan asked kindly, recalling the reason for the young ranger's absence.

"He's… Well, your Majesty." Gilan smiled. Duncan and Crowley seemed to be pleased with this answer, but Halt, ever attuned to his former apprentice's mannerisms, shot the tall ranger a questioning glance. Gilan returned it eye to eye – he'd been wanted to catch Halt's attention.

_We need to talk,_ Gilan's gaze said. Halt frowned fractionally, and nodded ever so slightly. No one but Gilan seemed to notice the gesture.

"…Wouldn't be surprised if he slept all of tomorrow," Crowley was saying, "I'm sure the boy's been through enough to keep him bed for a whole day. But he's an energetic lad, isn't he, Halt? Should be up soon enough."

Halt sipped at his coffee distractedly, hiding his worried frown. "Indeed. Nearly as energetic as Gilan was at his age."

Gilan ignored the jibe, and watched Halt unobtrusively as Duncan's and Crowley's attention was diverted to him. Halt was worried, he could tell. Worried about Will, of course – but he didn't seem to be anxious to pry Gilan for details. It was as if the older ranger already knew what to expect – as if he knew something that Gilan didn't. He knew what was wrong with Will.

Now, it was Gilan who was going to be prying for answers.

After what seemed to Gilan a torturously long conversation over trivial matters, King Duncan excused himself, explaining that Cassandra should be cleaned up and decent by now, and he wanted to spend the evening celebrating with his recently-returned daughter. Halt tactfully bade Crowley goodnight and left the room, taking Gilan with him. As soon as Crowley had shut the door behind them, Gilan turned to Halt.

"Halt, what's wrong with Will?" He demanded, his face set in worried lines. Halt made a placating gesture at him.

"Keep your voice down, would you? And nothing's wrong with Will. He' just tired." Halt looked a bit pained to say it.

Gilan was by no means stupid, and he could recognize a lie when he saw one. "_Halt," _he said, "This is serious. _What's wrong with Will?_" No matter how intimidating Halt might have been, Gilan refused to look away from the other ranger until he answered.

Halt sighed resignedly. "Come to my apartment and I'll tell you." He replied, quieter than before. "But not here – I don't think he'd want me telling you, especially when others could be listening." Halt said sadly.

Gilan was frowning deeply by now. "But, what could possibly-"

"Come on, Gilan." Halt ended the conversation by grabbing the ranger's arm and bringing him up in front of Halt, never stopping as he strode towards his rooms.

* * *

By the time they'd made it to Halt's quarters and Halt had spent a sufficient eternity making coffee, Gilan was fidgeting restlessly, following Halt's movements with an intense glare. The older ranger hadn't said another word in their trip to the suite, and he remained resolutely silent.

Halt sat down across from Gilan, and despite any training that might have stopped him under normal circumstances, Gilan blurted out,

"Why the devil won't you say anything? What's going on?"

Halt sighed and glanced from Gilan over to Will's bedroom, annoyed. "Quiet down, Gilan. You'll wake him up. As for what's going on, listen for a bit and I'll tell you."

"I've been listening for the past half hour, Halt." Gilan retorted, referring to the long, silent trek from Crowley's quarters to Halt's suite.

The glare that Halt sent Gilan over the brim of his coffee mug made it clear that quips like that would not be tolerated. The angry glint in Gilan's eyes died somewhat, and he settled down.

Halt set down is coffee, took a deep breath, and spoke. "Where to start?" He asked the air. "Well, I suppose you already know that Will and Evanlyn were captured by Skandians." Halt said, trying to find a starting point."

"Obviously," Gilan couldn't help himself. Halt nodded at him.

"Obviously." Halt repeated, his eyes raised in thought. "Now, what you may or may not know is that they weren't simply locked away as prisoners of war – they were put to work as slaves in Hallasholm, the Skandian capitol." Halt explained.

Gilan nodded slowly. He actually hadn't known that, but it didn't surprise him. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. But is it really just that that messed up Will so much? I mean, Evanlyn seems fine. What did they do differently to Will?" Gilan asked, mind working quickly.

Halt nodded acknowledgement. "That's just what I was getting to, actually. You see, when they arrived at Hallasholm – or so they told me – they were taken directly to the slave warden, who delegates out slaves to the respective areas of work in the Oberjarl's court. Evanlyn, being a strong girl, but a girl nonetheless, was sent to work in the kitchens. Hard work, but fair enough, with warm blankets, and a solid roof over her head." Halt's eyes darkened somewhat. "Will's case, however, was a bit different. When they got to Hallasholm, Will was very fit and strong. The warden took note of this, and sent him to work in the yard." Halt said, as if this should mean something to Gilan.

"And… I take it this 'yard' is none too pleasant?" The other ranger asked, apprehensive.

"A gross understatement," Halt replied grimly. "The yard is the area of work that uses up the most slaves, because once a slave goes to work the yard, the only way he's coming back is in a box."

Gilan looked rather shocked. "They work their slaves to death?"

"Not exactly 'work' to death – more like 'freeze to death'," Halt said. "The yard is covered in snow and ice in the winter, and is still unbearably cold in the other seasons. The 'shelter', if you can call it that, which they provide for the yard workers is little more than a shack, with no insulation, no fireplace, and no beds. Each worker gets a sackcloth blanket to keep warm."

"Good Lord," Gilan grimaced, "and they expect them to work? If I were forced to live in those conditions, I think I'd just lay down and die." The younger ranger was mortified, trying to imagine a bright young boy like Will being forced to live such a horrible existence.

"That's the crux of it all, isn't it?" Halt said, looking like he didn't want to say what he was going to say next "And that's the part that Will doesn't really want many people to know. He told me, but that's mostly because Evanlyn brought it up first." Halt sighed, collected his thoughts, and continued. "The Skandian wardens, to keep the slaves working and in check, well… They give the slaves a certain kind of drug."

Gilan frowned. "A drug?" He asked, "What kind of drug?"

Halt hesitated a moment before explaining. "Warmweed."

Gilan's frown intensified. "They give the slaves a painkiller? Halt, I don't understand."

"No, Gilan," Halt said, "Not a warmweed poultice – just the weed. Large doses of raw warmweed."

Gilan felt his stomach clench at that, and his frown disappeared, replaced by horrified understanding. "Is that… Is that even survivable?" Gilan asked. He'd been warned of the dangers of ingesting too much warmweed before. It was a drug with many medical uses, but large doses were dangerous.

"Survivable? Well, yes, if you can call it 'surviving', anyway." Halt sighed. "After the slaves start to show the first signs of exhaustion or illness, the wardens and other workers give them warmweed, to keep them working. After a while, the slaves become addicted to it, and they start forgetting everything but the drug. They don't think, don't talk, don't ask questions – they just do whatever they're told, if only to get their next dose of warmweed." Halt explained. After a while, they waste away and die, the next batch of workers is brought in, and the whole process starts over again."

The two rangers sat in stunned silence for a moment. Halt sipped at his coffee, and Gilan stared into space, trying to formulate a suitable reply. "And…" he began after a while, "Will?" He looked to Halt, his expression wrought with disgust and worry.

Halt sighed. "Despite his strength, Will was just like the others. By the time that he and Evanlyn were able to get away, Will was already deep in addiction. I'm sure that if Erak hadn't given Evanlyn the means to escape, Will would have been dead within the week."

Gilan nodded absently and a put a hand to his face, trying to comprehend. He couldn't possibly imagine… but... "What happened, then? I mean, he's obviously not addicted now – what happened?"

Halt nodded, took another sip from his coffee, and continued. "Erak, as I mentioned, helped the two to escape. He'd seen what had become of Will. And he'd grown rather fond of the two over their voyage together - he couldn't possibly watch one of them die. So, he summoned Evanlyn to his quarters one evening and gave her provisions and directions to a small hunting outpost in the mountains. He also gave her a stash of warmweed, with which to slowly wean Will off of the drug once they'd reached safety. Evanlyn bribed the yard workers into letting Will go, and the two set off across country to reach the small cabin up in the mountains. They stayed there the rest of the winter. But, because of Will's condition, Evanlyn was essentially on her own."

Gilan frowned once more. "How on earth did you find them?" He asked.

Halt shook his head. "A stroke of luck, really. We didn't find them as much as they found us. I'm still a bit fuzzy on the details, but apparently, Will came out of his drug-induced stupor a while before Horace and I reached the northern mountains. While we were tracking a small party of Temujai, Evanlyn was captured by the very same band of Temujai. Will went after her – though he would have been the death of both of them if he'd tried to save her. He was just skin and bones at that point – hardly any strength to speak of. Horace and I took care of the warriors, and, as it happened, stumbled upon the two we'd been looking for." Halt spread his hands in an explanatory gesture.

Gilan was nodding. "And then, I take it, was the war."

"Mind you, that was a good deal later," Halt pointed out.

Gilan tilted his head in acknowledgement, but it was clear that he was thinking through the load of information that he'd just been given. "I… I had no idea…" He said, putting a hand to his mouth. "I mean, I knew he'd been through a lot, but…" Words failed him. Gilan was about to comment further, until,

"Well he's fine now." Halt snapped at him. The edge in his voice alarmed the younger ranger. "So it's no use fretting over it."

Gilan stared at his old mentor for several tense minutes, until, unable to disguise his astonishment: "He's 'fine'?" Gilan repeated, unbelieving. Then, his disbelief turned to anger. "He's _fine?"_ Halt, have you not been watching your apprentice, or do you just not care? That boy is… Is… He's _messed up_, Halt! He needs help! He is not _fine_ by any stretch of the imagination!" Gilan turned in his seat, and gestured to where Will was still asleep, blissfully unaware that two of his best friends in the world were arguing over him. "The boy hardly eats a spoonful of dinner after claiming to be starving, and he acts as if a warm bath is the greatest luxury in the world! Halt, he told me that he hadn't slept in a real bed for a year. _A year!_ I thought he might eat the pillows, he was so happy to see a real bed." Gilan laughed, but it was a sad laughter, one that didn't reach his eyes. "How could you possibly say that your apprentice is _fine?"_

"I know, Gilan." Halt snapped. "I… I know." The older ranger didn't snap now, but instead put a weary hand to his head, sinking pitifully back in his chair. Suddenly, Gilan understood. Halt had been tearing himself up about this too. "But I can't do anything about it. He'll get better – he will. He's already come a long way. I know he's… Different. But he's alright. He's fine." As Halt said the last words, Gilan got the feeling that he wasn't trying to convince Gilan; he was trying to convince himself.

Gilan sat back in his chair for a moment, watching his mentor closely and considering his next words carefully. "Halt," he continued, more gently now, "I don't know what you know and what you don't know," he said, now leaning forward, "but I've hardly been around the boy for a day since he's gotten back, and I can see that something is not right. He's _not _fine, Halt. And I know it hurts you to see him like this, but just think about what it's doing to _him!" _Gilan tried to pry some reaction from the older man, but for once in his life Halt avoided Gilan's gaze, putting his white knuckles against his mouth to keep the emotion at bay. Gilan sighed. "Halt, he needs _help._ And we can't help him by pretending not to see the elephant in the room."

In the past, whenever Gilan used the popular metaphor, Halt would unfailingly retort that Gilan had no idea what an elephant looked like in first place, much less how one would fit one inside a room. But now, as a testament to the gravity of the situation, Halt remained silent, continuing his aimless stare at the living room wall, unblinking. After a tense moment, he whispered,

"But what do we do, Gilan?" Halt asked him, turning his dark gaze back around to his former apprentice, his eyes shining in a foreign expression of helplessness. "What can I possibly do?"

Gilan stopped short at that, and blinked several times before answering. "I… I don't know, Halt. But I know that we have to do _something. _Because the boy sleeping across that hall needs us to bring him back. Halt, he is _not _the Will that I knew."

There was another pause, before Halt turned his fathomless gaze back to wall and quietly asked, "Do you think he ever will be, Gilan?"

This time, Gilan couldn't give any answer, because there was no answer to give.

* * *

A/N: Meh. I feel as though this was a filler chapter. Sorry for the boring book three recap. Speaking of which, correct me if I got any of the details and info on book three wrong. I actually didn't bother looking anything up – that was all from memory. I only hope my memory serves me well. Thanks for reading!

Reviews and critiques are love.


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